Driftwood
by all-in-time
Summary: The girl looked up, startled by the sound, only just realising that the lump of bags and blankets was an actual person. Her pale eyes gaped at his amused grin, the intensity of their eye contact close to bizarre. - Merlin/Morgana. Modern AU. Reincarnation-fic. Multi-chapter.
1. One

**Driftwood**

_Another life, another time. A meeting of two strangers brings healing to some old wounds. _

Merlin/Morgana. Modern AU. Reincarnation-fic. Multi-chapter.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. No profit will be made from this.

A/N: Cal and June are based on Merlin and Morgana as much as the actors' other roles. It's been a long journey. They have lived, forgotten and begun again.

Warnings: Expect smoking, swear words, mention of drugs etc for the sake of realism. - There are no saints in this world, no devils either.-

Un-beta-ed. All mistakes are mine.

* * *

**_One._**

.

It was late, way past midnight when he woke up in the station. The last bus had left more than an hour ago. All commotion should have ceased by now.

Awoken, Cal lay motionless, listened to the shrill whisper of wind against frozen ground, the distant blast of a ferry a steady reminder of the coast, and waited.

Then, noises. A creak and the slam of cold steel, the door of the glass shelter shuddered from the impact. Light footsteps. A young woman or a delicate man, Cal reasoned. His back ached from the forced position, but he was reluctant to move, to maintain what heat had been trapped between him and the layers of fabric.

The intruder settled to the opposite end, and began fussing with their handbag. Definitely a woman. Cal craned his neck back to observe the newcomer through the iron mesh of the backrest. There was a wave of black hair, pale fingers, sheepskin coat covering her slender form. With rapid movements, she unlatched the cover of her mobile phone, extracted the card inside and got busy with its replacement. So far, there wasn't any sign that she had even noticed him.

Cal would have been perfectly fine with leaving it at that, but the craving for a cigarette made him act.

'Don't suppose you got a fag on ye?'

The girl looked up, startled by the sound, as if just realising that the lump of bags and blankets was an actual person. Her pale eyes gaped at his amused grin, the intensity of their eye contact close to bizarre.

'No. Sorry. I quit years ago.'

'Too bad.' Cal settled back, closing his eyes. The image of her pretty face hovered in his mind. Not a bad way to fall asleep. (One can dream.)

After a minute, she began shuffling through her bag again, though quieter this time.

He expected her to leave any minute now. Instead, everything grew very still.

* * *

4:30. Cal hid his broken watch his the pocket, turned another side. Something tawny-brown caught his eyes, and he blinked to see the girl again, slouched against the supporting walls, legs and knees close for warmth.

* * *

6:17. The bus shelter filled with noises. People climbed on the bus. Some were walking away. The sounds distancing. Doors closed and the vehicle drove away.

Cal sat up, batting his eyes at the first signs of dawn. His neck felt stiff. In the early chill, his sweater felt clammy against the skin, sending shudders down his spine. If possible, the temperature had dropped even lower. The girl was gone. Left with the rest.

Before the next bus could pull in, the girl returned, holding a brown parcel and a thermal cup. Cal swallowed involuntarily, filled with longing for coffee, or any hot drink, as the delicious smell invaded the pavilion.

Instead of taking a seat on her usual spot, she made her way to him, handed him the other cup he'd failed to notice.

With a short decision, she sat down next him, spilling the loot of packaged sugar and cream on the seat between them.

Cal emptied two sugar into his cup, tasted the blend.

'Thanks,' he mouthed, as the first sip scalding its way to his stomach. It resembled a cavernous pit. He poured a package of sugar into the cream container, emptied the mix into his mouth, licked the residue sugar off his lips. The girl observed him with some amusement.

'I thought you'd frozen here.' Her voice was even, with a soft Irish lilt.

'I was prepared,' Cal nodded at his fairly worn, well-insulated sleeping bag. 'Not so sure about you.' He snuck another look at the beauty at his side, but the girl was focused somewhere on the distance, holding the cup between her hands and thighs, two areas probably the most frost-bitten.

'This wasn't exactly what I had in mind.'

It took no genius to know that. Cal kept rest of his observations to himself, silently wondering what could possibly keep her there. The traffic had returned, the first train had arrived at the station. Her clothes and the quality roast left no doubt she could afford to be anywhere she wanted, had she chosen to.

Much like himself, she was an anomaly, but in different ends.

'I'm Cal by the way.'

She hesitated, momentarily, then covered it with a faint smile. 'June.'

Cal smiled back. 'Right.'

* * *

The girl with the fake name hanged around the station for another hour and a half, obsessing over the schedules, typing something into her phone. Staying clear from the crowds.

At length, she found him again, smoking in the patch of sun, in front of the station building.

'Where are you headed?'

'Nowhere,' Cal smiled, squinting at the light. His hat and duffel bag lay discarded on the bench. The cigarette had put him in such an ease not even her pretty face could shake.

'Good,' June replied, with a twitch of a mouth, 'That's where I'm going.'

It must have been some rare joke when the girl pulled some hundred quid from her coat and told him to get her a ticket. In return she'd pay for his.

Cal stared at the money, then back at her. She did not laugh nor withdraw the offer.

* * *

Maybe it's a test, he reasoned on his way to ticket office, an experiment just to see what he'd do, if he'd run with it. Any minute now, someone would point at the camera at him.

The hall remained empty, paper bills crinkled sweetly between his fingers. He could walk out of here right now and no one would stop him.

_He'd done way worse for far less of a temptation. _

He took his place in the queue. Three people stood before him. A middle-aged woman was arguing with the salesman. _What was taking so long?_

The whole contents of his bag wasn't worth a fraction of this sum.

Two.

There was nothing in it that would help identify him, if he left it behind.

One.

Cal paced around. Hundred quid to go nowhere. This was insane.

* * *

A/N: Just a short tease to set up the journey. Are you ready for an update? Feedback much appreciated : )


	2. Two

A/N: Thank you everyone for the interest, it's encouraging. Yes, the names. I kept switching to and back myself, trying to find the least distracting ones. So after endless nitpicking, the newest chapter - _without giving too much of the plot away_ - the last one with changed names...

* * *

**Two.**

.

Cal watched the sleeping girl on the opposite seat, her head nestled in her jacket, pressed tight between her and the window. The bleak sun cast a glow on her exposed skin, her pale neck, strewn with shadows from the passing landscape.

For a fugitive, she had no trouble sleeping, Cal observed, unable to look away, or ignore that tingling feeling in his knees when they brushed hers as the train moved. _How stupid to fall for a girl you've only __just met_, a voice chided in his mind, while his body was relentlessly waiting for the next curve. The train shook. June was slowly gliding against the window, her makeshift pillow falling away.

He fought an urge to reach out and adjust it, but the old woman sitting next to him was already giving him strange smiles. He quickly looked away.

_That's what happens when you travel with girls_, Cal reasoned, unsure what to do with the situation. People tended to be friendlier, more eager to start a conversation, taking her for a proof of his good character. It was almost like the earlier times, when he'd only begun, taking each day for granted. Each trip a possibility, every stranger a friend in the making...

The woman began unwrapping her lunch. June slept on.

He stared.

* * *

At the next station, the girl opened her eyes with a shock.

He knew the feeling, that momentary disorientation, something you'd expect after skipping a night. Her pale green eyes scanned her surroundings, took in the sight of him, the station outside, the stamped tickets on the table between them.

'Where are we?'

'Liverpool. Half an hour stop. Wanna take a look outside?'

Cal tried to make it sound like an insignificant suggestion, but he desperately needed to take a piss, maybe get something to eat. The sandwich the elderly lady had shared had been welcome, but barely enough to stop the grumbling.

June groaned deeply, but shifted to get her coat. Since neither was staying behind, he reached for his bag overhead. The girl had no other luggage. Cal fumbled stepped aside to let her to go first. It had seemed like a nice gesture, but then he felt the more stupid for trying. _Real smooth._

On his way out, he dropped his beanie hat. June picked it up and planted it on her head, just before they stepped off the carriage.

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for his reaction. The green seemed to match with her eyes. Cal swallowed, feeling utterly lost.

'It suits you way better,' he noted, coyly. But that was hardly unexpected. A girl with her looks could wear old pajamas and a paper bag and still look amazing.

* * *

They didn't need to go far, stopping at the first place that sold something edible.

'You're not hungry?'

June shook her head, passing her share of fish'n'chips to Cal, who took them without hesitation. While eating, he felt the girl's eyes wander over his face, mapping him like an unknown land.

He wondered what she was seeing. A skinny boy with high cheekbones and big ears, perhaps she thought him too odd. It had never bothered him what other people thought, being raised on worse, yet her scrutiny unraveled him somehow, set his every cell on fire.

'Do you believe in coincidence?'

Cal looked up. The intensity of her gaze made his face heat up from neck to ears. His eyes held hers for a brief second before he smiled and she finally looked away.

'Perhaps. I imagine so.' He licked his lips, thinking. 'World has a way of working out its course, without us knowing.'

'Like fate?' she surmised.

'No.' Cal wiped his fingers against his jeans in desperate need for a wash. He should take care of that. 'We can still refuse, move on, change what we don't like. There's always a choice.'

'What about the choices of others, our parents, for example?'

Cal looked away, uncomfortable.

'There's always another way.'

* * *

The train was still. They were seated side by side, their old places taken. This carriage were mostly unreserved. Outside, the platform was bustling with people, rushing to work, to friends and family, wherever they were expected. Time and where they spent it seemed to matter so much. June's eyes kept sorting the crowd, people came and went. At last, she settled, removing his hat. Dark brown waves spilled free. And she sighed.

'What are you running from?'

She knew she was caught, but she wouldn't give up, not so easily. 'What makes you think I'm running?'

Cal raised an eyebrow.

'So there's another reason for sleeping in stations. Avoiding people. Giving out fake names?'

Guilt, then shock on her face. He already regretted saying anything. He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. 'You're not a celebrity, or anything?' She looked away, slender fingers clutched around his hat. Cal sighed, sinking back into his seat. 'Look, whatever it is, I'm not gonna tell on you. I just... want to help.'

It was useless to press further. A whistle sounded, the train shook back to life. An odd silence settled between them, until she spoke again.

'Why do people trust so much?'

The sadness in her eyes was intolerable.

'I mean, why keep doing it,' she continued, 'when it brings so much trouble?'

Cal shrugged it off.

'How can you otherwise?'

* * *

The rest of their trip went by in quiet. The landscape changed from houses to industrial scenes, from faded green hillocks to groves shedding their last leaves. How odd it was to wake up one morning, with this magnificent view of life. Only to forget about it in the next.

Cal had long stopped wondering about it. Things didn't happen to him anymore. He was drifting, aimlessly, looking for wonders, rather than causing them to happen. The world seemed empty, somehow. He'd found himself wishing it to be different, to be able to move things without touching, have conversations in one's mind, carve his fingers through the layers of causality and create waves.

Cal closed his eyes, the sun burned golden through his eyelids, the girl's shoulder pressed against his own. Slowly, the movement became cradling. All else faded.

* * *

He woke up just in time, having nearly missed his station. June got out with him, though the stop was brief.

'So, this is it.' Cal motioned vaguely, let his hands drop. He'd always been a bit awkward at this. Goodbyes, and girls. 'I'll go on from here.'

'You're not coming to Cardiff?' _With me.  
_

He shook his head, regret burning into his sides. A pair of leather boots had never seemed so fascinating.

'I'm going to stay with my family. In Carmarthen.'

'Oh.'

She hadn't expected that, Cal saw. He tended to look like a bum these days.

He gave an encouraging smile, remembering their first meeting. She seemed lost. He had to remind himself he wasn't abandoning her. If anything, she'd taken care of him, brought him that far.

'It's amazing to have met you,' he said, meaning every word. Asking for her number seemed ridiculous in her situation. In all likelihood, they'll never meet again.

'Yeah. It was.'

It felt wrong, somehow. He felt a desperate need for a reminder, a solid proof that this day happened, before it all turned into a memory.

She surprised him then by wrapping her arms around his nec, slightly shorter and on tiptoes. He pressed his hands on the small of her back to keep her steady. They just fit, without a question. The world rushed by, distant, as if time had left them alone in their bubble.

But that's impossible.

Carefully, she released her hold. He turned to go, before he could change his mind and follow her till the end of the world.

'Wait.'

Cal turned, watched her catch up.

She retrieved an object from her pocket, one he recognized as his own hat. He also knew he could never wear it without thinking of her. Possibly ever.

'Keep it. It looks good on you.'

The engine started, the train surged back to life. Several people rushed on, last passengers for the departing train. June stepped on it.

Their moment was over. The world had rushed back in, leaving them stranded on separate ends.

* * *

A/N: Angsty, but hold on. Up next - the unknown threat shows its face. We see more of Morgana's POV. Plus, one more character makes an appearance.


	3. Three

A/N: Thank you for reading! I love one-shots. It's also the way I write longer stories, more like a string of shorter scenes together, and I cut the parts that don't work. I'm very impatient sometimes : ) But now, on to the next installment.

* * *

**Three.**

.

Morgana entered the train, still reeling from the unexpected encounter. It was him, _Merlin_. Merlin, who she'd last seen centuries ago, briefly, fighting at Arthur's side. It was the time of reformation and she was still young, ready to disagree with anything that resembled power. But that was long ago. What brought them both together now was another mystery. A twist of fate, a cruel reminder? After four lifetimes with Uther, Morgana had learned not to hope. For all she knew, this could be the most difficult time yet.

The radio switched on, an apology for the delayed departure resounded in the carriage.

_Why?_ She had tried kindness. Tried coaxing it out of him, testing him, luring him in, not ready to let go, not really. And all the while his eyes hovered on her, probing, asking, wanting... answers. _How could he not know?_

Morgana pressed herself past the other passengers, trying to find a seat. She hadn't wanted to leave it like that, but Merlin insisted on going on his way, and she had played every card in her sleeve.

A hand grabbed her elbow, scared Morgana out of her musings. She looked down, realized there was no danger. The old lady who had sat with them gave her the kindliest smile.

'Dear, did I scare you? Someone was here just now, looking for you. I said you'd changed your seats. A very handsome boy, he was... Much like the other one.'

_Fuck_.

Without bothering to answer, Morgana pushed her way to the doors, took a quick peek outside. Outside, two men in suits were arguing with the conductor, causing their delay.

Before they could turn to see her, Morgana jumped off the train, and ran.

* * *

Arthur was about to call off his men, when something flashed in the corner of his eyes. A woman ran across the crowded platform, took cover and darted for the nearest exit. Her hair was hidden under a hat, and she moved too quick. At the elevators, she turned around. It was definitely her.

Within an instant, Arthur took off after her, and more men followed under his command.

She shook them off once or twice, but he found her again, her light brown jacket called out like a beacon on the sea of grey and black. He had manned all exits and the tunnel, knowing she could not keep this up for long.

'She's a girl, for Chrissakes. A girl.' Arthur glared at each of the four men, equally out of breath. 'How can a girl outrun four full-grown man?'

Percy, the tallest one, was the one to open his mouth. 'She can't, sir.'

'Then she's got to be still in here. Search everything within the radius, ask questions. Someone must have seen her. Go.'

Arthur turned, rubbing his head. He was too close. Too damn close to give up.

* * *

Morgana was holding on to Merlin's shoulders, crammed together in the tiny cubicle. She was balanced on the edge of the stool, so that outside the photo booth, only one pair of legs was visible behind the curtain.

Two sturdy men rushed by, third one at their heels. Minutes passed. Morgana tried breathe more quietly, but the lack of air made her dizzy.

'What the hell just happened?' Merlin whispered when the sounds stopped. He didn't trust to get out of there yet, and she surely couldn't show her face around here anymore.

'They found me.'

'Yeah, but how?'

'The ATM. I took money from my account while we left.' She covered her face with a palm. 'I didn't think they'd catch up, just yet.'

Half an hour stop. Luck never favoured her side.

'We can't stay here forever,' he prompted. She was clinging to his back from an awkward angle, her legs still wobbly from the chase. No, she would not want to stay there.

* * *

Two people had confirmed seeing her run in that direction. But the tunnel was empty. Except... A man, crouched at the photo booth, busy scraping something from under the machine with a metal wire.

'Hey, you,' Arthur's officer mode kicked in. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

The guy turned around, didn't bother to stand up. He appeared young - in his early twenties at most, with a short mess of black hair and sharp blue eyes. There was something about that boy that caught his attention, something he could not put his finger on.

'Why,' Merlin smiled cheekily, seeing no badges, no uniform of a security guard, 'is finding money a crime now?'

Being used to commanding respect, this answer was not what Arthur had expected.

'No. In fact, since you're so good at finding things...' He gave a grim smile, pulled out a photograph and held it to thew boy's face. 'Maybe you've seen her. This girl has recently gone missing. Age 23, green eyes, long dark hair, average height...'

The boy stared at the photograph, barely even listening. Morgana was wearing a V-neck polo, hair brushed to the side, smiling wide into the camera. It could've been a picture from a high-school yearbook, or someone from a sorority.

'Well?' Arthur was growing impatient.

'_Nice_.' Merlin smiled.

Arthur resisted an urge to punch him in the face. Yet, the boy had balls, more than he could say about some of his men.

'This may be a joke to you, but this girl is in danger, and she has a family who want her back.'

He straightened up, returning the photo in his pocket. 'And what's wrong with your friend here?' he pointed at form wrapped in blankets. He lay, shaking, face against the wall, head and a a pair of old sneakers sticking out from the covers.

'Uhm, he err, got too wild last night.'

Arthur did not believe him one minute.

'Well, make sure he's gone by the time I'm back. We can't have any addicts in here.'

This time, Merlin had no counterarguments. And he had a search to conduct.

* * *

Outside the station, it began to rain. Umbrellas appeared, big and small. Hidden, half-way around the block in a dead-end alleyway, behind huge trash-containers, Morgana began to unbutton her jacket - the dead giveaway - and threw it on the ground. Next, she pulled off Merlin's old shoes and replaced them with her own.

'Take this,' Merlin handed her his black overcoat. He was wearing nothing but a gray hoodie, shivering slightly in the wind-

'No.' Morgana backed out. 'What about you?'

'I'll survive.'

She crossed her arms. 'So will I.'

'We can't risk any more attention. Now, stop being stubborn and put this on.'

'You said we?'

Merlin took his duffel bag and nodded.

'You should come with me, if you need a place hide. Think about it - it's the best plan. We don't know each other, there's nothing to link you and me - they would never know to look for you there.'

It was true. But Morgana hesitated. _He still did not remember. There was so much he didn't know._ Yet, he trusted her blindly, without a doubt.

'Or is there another place you need to be?' Merlin peered at her with so much boyish charm and excitement, she began to wonder if that was the man who once rose armies against her. That she did the same, time and again, and never regretted, never begged.

'Nowhere,' she admitted, and took the jacket.

Merlin laughed.

* * *

By the time they arrived in Carmarthen, it was already dark. The bus drove away, the red backlights glowing in the distance. Wind picked up, reminding her exactly what she would have to endure had she chosen differently.

'Come on,' Merlin tugged her gently at her arm, lead her through the passageway into the city. Morgana hooked an arm around his, testing his reaction. She did not expect a shot of fire in her belly, when he took it without hesitation, pressed her hands in his for warmth.

Since their arrival, Merlin had been increasingly more at ease, joking and pointing at things in the dark, the pride of the city, the ruins of an old medieval castle. And, in the middle of it all, a river blinking in the night, winding its way to the bay, and the sea, which could not be too far from here.

She found herself envying Merlin's situation, how easily he had moulded into Cal and the place around him. Morgana could never really let things go, her past and her memories the only reality she knew.

'Here we are. Welcome home,' Merlin said, breathing in a lungful of the evening air, the cold smell of wet grass and mouldy leaves that filled the night. He opened the gate and stepped up to the door. The house they had arrived was small, whitewashed stone, shrouded in ivy. A young rowan grew behind the hedge. _Witchbane_, she remembered, and her fingers ran over its smooth bark.

* * *

A/N: So, Morgana remembers, but is she the only one... Next chapter will be in work soon. Expect more Merlin/Morgana, plus, we learn more about Cal's/Merlin's home.


	4. Four

A/N: I can't seem to put this down. Another update for you darlings.

* * *

**Four.**

.

The floorboards creaked when he made his way up the narrow steps, Morgana in tow. A door opened to an attic chamber, and Merlin was groping for a light switch, while they both stumbled and staggered over things on the floor. Merlin's room was the one facing the street, she recognized by the shape of the window sticking out from the roof.

Inside, the light went on, revealing wooden floor and pieces of furniture - of different sets, each one of them; boxes with things that no one seemed to use or had used for a long time. And books, a staggering amount of books, stacked in shelves on walls that weren't slanted. In the corner: a bed, a desk and an armchair. A piece of a sofa too small to sleep on.

'Uhm,' Merlin reeled back at the sight, and quickly switched to the lamp on his desk, casting a more favourable, buttery light on the scene. 'I haven't been here for a while, so... Didn't know it was that bad.'

'It's quite alright.' Morgana stepped around the boxes, which he, hurriedly, began to remove. Apart from the obvious disuse, the place looked lovely, with sheepskin rugs and patchwork blankets, and pictures covering the wall. At a closer inspection, she realized posters on the wall looked faded, the calendar dated a few years back. This was a room of a young boy, not the man that he was now.

Merlin just stood there, scratching the back of his head, as if her presence had caused the room to shift and turn into something small and unusual. 'So you live here with your parents?'

'Lived.' Merlin corrected. 'This place belongs to my great aunt and uncle. They took me in - after my parents died.'

'I'm sorry.' Morgana found that quite horrifying, but Merlin shrugged with a small 'thanks' and continued to clear out things stored there during his absence.

'It's... very nice in here.' Morgana assured, tracing in the backs of the books, all medicine and cooking, shelves filled with textbooks of astronomy and philosophy. Since their early meeting, she had never thought of him as a student, or anyone with a fixed place or goal. But no one could be on the road forever, right? Then, sounds downstairs.

'Someone is home.'

* * *

To say his aunt was pleased to see him, was an understatement. But soon enough Merlin had managed to free himself from her grasp, and took a step back to introduce his new friend properly.

'June, my aunt Alice. Alice, this is June, we... uhh travelled together.' Morgana felt Merlin's hand on her back gently nudge her further into the kitchen, towards the aunt.

'Hello June.'

The woman was wearing a knitted shawl over a night hem, her long gray hair braided to one side. Years had worked on her attractive face but her eyes were sharp as ever and studied her keenly in a way that was not unkind. She flashed a genuine smile, making Morgana feel like the fraud she was, and desperate to fit in. The woman pressed her hand, firmly, before returning her attentions to the prodigal son.

'My dear boy. I wish you had let us known that you were coming. Your uncle is away till tomorrow, gone to the antique fair. You know how much he wants to see you. Well, come in both of you, you must be starving... Just look at you, Cal.' His aunt picked at his clothes and hair, which he tried to wave off, but failed. 'I will run a hot bath.'

* * *

Much like the rest of the house, the living room was small and cozy, all corners filled with pots and plates, and dried herbs.

'A small hobby of mine,' Alice commented, catching her wandering eye. 'We keep our own garden of herbs. Cal can show you in the morning.'

Merlin had disappeared to take the shower, leaving Morgana alone with his aunt. She held the steaming hot tea between both of her hands and took a sip. The mix consisted of various herbs, rosehip and something sweet. Morgana hummed.

'Catnip, chamomile and honey.' Alice nodded, knowingly. 'Helps you sleep.'

'How long have you been living in here?' Morgana asked to start a conversation.

'My husband and I bought this cottage long time ago, back then it was nothing more than a shack. Cal moved in much later, which was nice, for we never had children of our own. A troubled boy, he was... Very smart, but so restless.'

Morgana nods. An image of young Merlin, running around, causing trouble, unable to concentrate, fills her mind with ease. Even at the time of Camelot, Merlin was constantly on the way to somewhere, running errands for Arthur and Gaius both.

'I should thank you for bringing him home now, the boy needs some rest.'

'Are you sure it's not the other way around?' Morgana prompted, feeling quite undeserving of the gratitude.

Alice shook her head, smiling. 'Cal was missing for three years.'

* * *

Merlin returned, carrying two extra towels. He had changed into a black t-shirt, his hair still wet and sticking to his forehead. He had also shaved his stubble, suddenly looking younger than he had before.

'Uhm, right.' He went downstairs and returned with a pile of clothes. There was a long gray sweater, a knitted shawl, pair of slacks, a white blouse. 'This should do, I mean - if you find anything you like, I think...'

'It's fine,' she heard herself repeat, too many times today. _Why wouldn't it be fine?_

Merlin stood and waited, the water gathering on his forehead.

Morgana reached out and wiped it away, noticed how it unraveled him a bit. She had seen the look before, but that was before she became the runaway and he his cover. Surely, all unease should have faded by now. _Why, is he remembering now? _

The fright from that idea made her pull away. Merlin mumbled an apology, red in the ears.

Something stirred within her. A sadness that wasn't quite new. Something she'd long since forgotten, when things had turned from bad to worse. But it was there. Between them. After all that time. And it frightened her.

'Thank you, Cal.'

She took the towels and left the room.

* * *

Morgana sat in the bath till it went cold, resting her head slightly above the water, thinking, thinking, thinking... About Uther and his terrible secrets, Arthur's unyielding drive to find her again, and the young man nextdoor, her destiny and her doom, in who's bath she was currently soaking, in the small cabin on the edge of the town.

Was it so wrong for her to wish for a reprieve, the one moment to escape her insane reality and take one long breath and forget it all?

When she emerged, he saw Merlin was already asleep on the mattress laid out on the floor. The bed was neatly made, for her, and Morgana had no chance to argue about the fairness of the arrangement. So, after one last look at him, she climbed into the bed between the fresh sheets and heavy duvet and switched off the light.

* * *

_At night, the dreams of their past emerged again. Flames of magic rippled through the ground and soaked it crimson red. A lance had torn through the right side of Arthur's armour, his own rune sword discarded, and the land was silent. Empty. _

_Merlin kneeled with her over the fallen king, their feud forgotten. He despaired, rebelled and tried, but the limp body remained unmoved. In his last hope, he turned to Morgana, asked if she knew any magic that could keep him with them._

_Morgana bent down, lowering her hood, and tasted the salt on his tear-stained cheeks... She felt the wind change. _

_'__Avalon.'_

_._

Morgana awoke in the darkness, strangely relieved to see Merlin's dark shape on the floor, and thought about her dream, and how odd it all felt.

'_Merlin_.' She whispered into the darkness, expecting no answer. But the figure stirred, and no sooner had she closed her eyes than he sat up and looked at her. Morgana lay motionless, pretending to be sound asleep.

With a sigh, Merlin connected with the mattress again. Then, all grew quiet.

* * *

The next morning, when she opened her eyes, Merlin was already up. The mattress was gone, her new clothes neatly piled and folded on the table. On top of it she found a note. _Left to get some things from the city. Enjoy your breakfast. BRB, Cal._

Morgana wrapped a huge gray shawl around her shoulders and ventured downstairs to the kitchen. There was some bacon and eggs, an empty cup and a plate. Having overslept, the food was hopelessly cold. Besides, the idea of eating alone had no appeal to her this morning.

Unsure what to do, Morgana silently moved around the house. It was empty. Abandoned.

Outside in the garden she spotted the sight of Merlin's aunt.

* * *

Heaps of soil and dried herbs were spread on the ground. It smelled ancient and familiar, though their names were lost in time. Alice explained she was clearing the patch to plant new ones in the spring. Armed with a pair of work gloves, Morgana was helping to clean up the stems. It felt nice: the smell of earth and late autumn, having something useful to do. In fact, everything so far had been nothing but pleasant.

Morgana rested, brushed a wayward curl off her face, and, for a moment, fell deep into thought.

'Are you going to tell him?' Alice asked, not once removing her hands from the soil.

Morgana froze, her heart stopped for a moment. _Tell him who she was? Or that they had met each other many times before? _She gathered herself, tried to keep cool. 'Tell him what?'

'Don't look so frightened, Morgana. Gaius and I had plenty of years to forgive and forget. There's no need for fear, my child.'

Morgana's mouth opened and closed. _Did she just say Gaius?_ But of course. Of course.

She was still to come up with an answer, but Merlin's shout cancelled that thought. A familiar friendly face poked through the door.

* * *

A/N: So, reveal or no reveal? More to come, hopefully soon. Thank you for reading and reviewing : )


	5. Five

A/N: Thank you for the reviews and continuing support. I searched myself everywhere for a realistic, very particular type of M/M present day AU (I think _Mirrors in Amber_ is beyond brilliant), before I resorted to writing up one myself. I'd far prefer being just a reader. - But now, as promised, Cal's/Merlin's view on things. A very blissful view.

* * *

**Five.**

.

Cal packed his bag in a hurry, hoping that his aunt was not the cause for June's sudden air of detachment. Or maybe he'd stepped over some boundary yesterday. _Stupid idiot, __why did you have to grab her hand?_ But then he remembered how she had touched his face, after the shower, the sudden embarrassment and shock of arousal, and it made so much sense again, and it didn't at all.

Well, hopefully she would like the surprise trip he had in store for the day. Excited to start already, he lifted his load and beckoned her along, _don't grab her hand, show that you're not trying..._

'Let's go, then. June?'

'Morgana,' the girl said.

It sounded as if she'd been holding her breath. Way too long.

'What?' Cal stood in a momentary confusion, unsure what she expected him to say or do.

'My real name, it's Morgana.' And, quite unnecessarily, she tugged out a driver's licence, and three other cards that spilled from the holder. All with the same name.

'Du Bois,' he spelt, staring briefly at the girl on the picture, seeing her birthday had already passed, and that - to his relief - she was only one year older. 'Is that French?'

'Only on my mother's side,' Morgana replied, glibly, 'my Dad was plain old Irish.' She took the card and hid it away again. Cal briefly wondered why she wasn't named after her father. Perhaps her parents never got married, or maybe she hadn't known him at all.

'Well, don't chuck it into fire.' He quirked his head, beaming like an idiot with a state secret. 'You might get to drive, yet.'

* * *

It's he, though, who did the driving, as the one who really knew the streets. They parked the car just outside the centre and covered the rest of their trip by foot.

The flea market was in full bustle. It was Saturday morning at eleven am, and the sun was high above their heads, bouncing back from silver platters and brass doorknobs. Everything was up for grabs, for the right price.

They managed to sell Morgana's 'treacherous' coat for some good 120 pounds, despite her insisting it was worth at least 300. But it was more than enough to pay for a gray woolen coat to serve as its replacement, a hat with furry flaps and matching homemade mittens and a scarf. All in all, the day seemed to go perfectly, and June - _Morgana, _he kept reminding himself - forgot her earlier sadness and smiled at him a great deal more.

After two long hours switching and trading, the pair made their way towards the river, with a lot less to carry back home.

Cal himself had made good money for all his textbooks. He had also found a watch and an antique clock that Gaius could appreciate. (Or mitigate his anger once he found out he'd sold the books.)

* * *

'Is it true,' Morgana asked him, when they sat on the quay, eating tortilla wraps. 'Were you really gone all this time?'

Cal nodded. It suddenly became very uncomfortable, the way she looked at him. A dose of alarm and disbelief and... awe. It was a strange mixture, and he did not want to feel proud, or her to admire him for it.

'I did call them, sometimes,' he defended himself, launched a pebble into the river. 'Things weren't exactly brilliant on this side of the world either. I used to get into these terrible rows with Gaius... about college, and tuition fees.'

'Was that the reason you dropped out?'

Cal thought, suppose it was. That and some more. 'Gaius was against me quitting. I can't blame him, though. It's just-... The system no longer made any sense to me. They take all your money, and shove this 'paper' in your face, and you spend the next five to ten years of your life earning it back, trying to remember what made you want to do it in the first place.'

He crinkled up the sandwich paper, discarding the old arguments.

'I'm free now - to do what I want, be who I want. I don't regret any of it. I've been seeing places and meeting people I would never have met... I'm experiencing my life, taking it as it comes.'

'Sleeping on the streets.' Morgana adds.

'Sometimes.' He agreed. 'There's no shame in it. Things come and go, that's what fortune is about. It's your acceptance that makes all the difference.'

* * *

They fed the remnants of their lunch to the ducks, glaring accusingly as they got up to leave.

Morgana stretched and made quirky sounds as her circulation restored, and her mood stayed light and cheerful, and she leaned on him more than a couple of times, pointing at things, laughing and eating ice cream cones against his better judgement. For a blissful while, he imagined themselves as simple tourists, hanging around the historical city.

He avoided asking more about Morgana's back story, to keep from destroying the mood. She was slowly opening up, and he had already learned her name and details about her parenthood, and trusted him entirely with her safety. _Safety from what?_ What if she was chased by a mob, the reluctant heir of a mafia family? The picture in his mind came too close to resembling _Dogville_, and besides, he would have little chance of protecting her from anyone from that calibre, even though there was an old antique gun in the cupboard.

(Plus, he needed a bullet and gunpowder, and he had never checked if the pouch was actually full...) Cal shook that idea off his mind. It would never get that far.

The idea that the danger could be the police he had discarded the moment it first occurred, seeing no evidence in her of the taut nerves of a wanted criminal. No, this was much simpler. And he had to wait it out. Patiently.

One thing was certain to Cal, that whatever it was, for him, it would not change a thing.

* * *

On their way back, Morgana entwined her fingers through his again, _so it could not have been last night after all_, and let it go only when he climbed back into the car behind the wheel. Cal felt giddy, foolishly happy to be touched by her, while the nagging voice at the back of his mind told him to calm the fuck down and watch the road.

To fill the silence, he switched on the radio, the forecast promised low degrees and early snow. He imagined what it would feel like, going to the Christmas market next time at the same place, drinking mulled wine and watch snow sprinkle her hair like thousand tiny particles of-

_The road, Cal, the road._

And while he had successfully avoided the topic, the unknown reasons behind her escape cast a long enough shadow to put a stop on any long-term plans or hopes... Not to mention that she was a girl from a very different background, quite unlike his vagabond lifestyle. Maybe she'd reject him, taking things for what they were - a weekend fling... Cal cringed inwardly.

When he pulled up at the house, another car was on the driveway.

* * *

Uncle Gaius was inside the living room, and he and Alice appeared to in a middle of a discussion. Cal gingerly stepped into view.

'Well, my boy, you've finally shown up,' Gaius mumbled, a lot less grumpy than he had imagined him to be. A lot more older too, and his hair seemed to be longer.

'You've grown into a tall young man,' he measured, and Cal did not have the heart to tell his uncle it was him who kept getting shorter, getting crunched up as the years went by. In a gust of sentiment, Cal wrapped his arms around the aging man, wondering how he could have ever managed to get in a fight with him. (Only to be reminded soon, no doubt.)

Brushing aside the tears of sentiment, Gaius then turned to Morgana, who had been watching the scene play out before her.

'Uncle Gaius, this is... uhm...'

'Morgana, I presume,' Gaius helped him out of the predicament. Apparently, Alice had been let in on her secret a little earlier, and he tried his best not to show that it did hurt him a bit.

Introducing Morgana proved easier than the night before, and they held a curiously long gaze, before Gaius released her hand, abruptly, and turned to Alice, declaring that he was starving and therefore, clearly, it was the time for the supper.

* * *

A/N: Merlin being so painfully oblivious. And already hopelessy falling for her. Very very sweet, but wait...


	6. Six

A/N: I think I'll have to try and force a slower rate of updates, to keep up the quality and the right pacing. It's safe to say this story has completely taken over my brain. And rest assured, dear readers - I'm not gonna leave you hanging.

* * *

**Six.**

.

Merlin sat on the side of the hearth, kindling a small fire into life. The wood crackled and whistled under the flames. It stopped struggling soon, cast a steady warm glow on the two. Morgana pulled her knees close to her chest, her chin resting on the sleeve of her sweater. The fire danced in their eyes, but didn't catch. His irises remained cobalt blue.

This must be it, Morgana mused distantly, their moment of truth. Gaius had already dropped by earlier, bid the young ones goodnight. There was no one here to interrupt them, nothing to stop the inevitable from happening. He deserved some more explanation, Morgana reasoned, had already been overly patient with her. But she couldn't open her mouth. Could not break the spell.

'The man at the station, who was he?' Merlin asked after a short while, raising an eyebrow, 'Some bloodhound to track you down?'

'Close,' Morgana admitted with the faintest hint of a smirk. 'He's my brother.'

Merlin looked up in surprise. It had begun. The reveal. Morgana wondered whether she really wanted him to know. A part of her wanted to cling on to this childish innocence, the idea of them unmarred by their past, leave the hatred and all ugly things behind...

'So it's true - what he said. About your family looking for you?'

Merlin looked strangely concerned, as if he hadn't pulled the same stunt a few years ago. Morgana turned to the fire and shrugged. Suppose they were looking for her, all worried and anxious. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter, given the adversity of her situation there.

'Why did you run?' Merlin asked after another while. 'Did they harm you...in any way?'

He was thinking she had been abused, Morgana realized, or - god forbid - molested. And she did not want him to think that. 'Not physically, no,' she confessed, her secrets coming undone. 'My family seem to be under the impression that I cannot take care of myself.'

She proceeded to describe her life during the past few months, what it meant to be walled up in a house like a table decoration. The huge halls and empty corridors. Cameras in hallways and search marks in her room. Letting people know each time she planned to go out for as much as a walk, or a trip to a store, a bodyguard on her trails when she did. Merlin in his spirit married to freedom, shuddered at her situation.

'That's insane.'

Morgana smiled at the irony.

* * *

That night, Merlin agreed to sleep by her side, his bed just wide enough for two, and Morgana had a hunch that the gesture of comfort was directly related to their earlier conversation.

All that time in the firelight, he had looked at her, and repeatedly wet his lips, and all she wanted to do was kiss him, get a taste of that big dark unknown she had left behind together with her past, the battlefields and black magic.

Morgana had to remind herself that this was really the same Merlin, the great warlock who had challenged her before - and won, perhaps the most powerful magical being, whose death had drained it from the foundations of earth. That it was indeed Merlin, whose hands now roamed over the small of her back, up and down an up again, knowing he would feel the clip of her bra through the top, his body clearly reacting to hers, but not really acting on it. No.

* * *

In that moment, Morgana regretted him being such a nice person, the very thing that had drawn her to him and filled her with newborn lust. She buried her nose deep in his collar, snuggled in, causing the tendrils in his neck to tighten as she breathed out, an involuntary twitch in his body against the full length of her limbs.

Merlin held out, like he always had. With a pang of mercy on his poor soul, Morgana finally gave up on the attack, biting back the sour disappointment.

_Almost is never,_ she remembered.

Inadvertently, Morgana had been reminded again why her arch enemy had remained so unconquered. It made her think of lost opportunities, one more moment that might slip by. She traced the line of his collarbone under the black cotton shirt, savouring their newfound peace.

Merlin grew still and let out a soft sigh, her hands rested on his chest, feeling his heart beat under the fabric of his shirt.

'Is there really no one you could contact?' she heard him wonder before sleep. 'Anyone you can trust to help?'

Morgana considered. There was _one_.

* * *

Sneaking out from Merlin's dormant side, Morgana took her mobile and went to look for the door that lead to the darkened yard. Frozen droplets of rain hovered in the air, easily mistaken for snow, as, slow to remember, Morgana began to dial.

.

'You knew it, didn't you?' Morgana realized how foreign her own voice sounded in the night, accusing, pleading - _begging even_ - but she couldn't bring herself to care, not with her Mum on the other end, all evading, mysterious, and out of words. 'That's why we were given these names,' Morgana continued, not giving up on this. 'Me and Arthur. You already knew what we would be, who we _were_ _back then_.'

The implications of her mother's informed decision and their full effect on Morgana's life played out in numerous scenarios, and she fell silent, considering them all. 'Is that what you thought when you met Uther? Was this why you left my Dad?'

_'Morgana, dear, this is not the kind of discussion we should have on the phone.'_

A long pause, and the air grew heavy, as both listened to the other breathe, far away from each other.

_'Sweetheart. Please, just tell me where you are. I'll come over. We'll talk._'

Sensing the crack in the opposition, and a nagging suspicion, she added, a whisper to her scared child,

'_I won't tell. I promise.'_

* * *

In the morning, Morgana lay awake for a while, enjoying the wonderful sensation of another body against her own. Merlin stirred, his leg tangled with her own, an arm around her waist, and slept on. There was little regret that things had not progressed any further. Merlin had the right to be cautious, even if he did not remember her as she was, even if he only knew the life that he had now.

After all, who was she to ruin this for him - bring back memories of killings and death. Magic was dead, had not been resurrected with them. _What's the point of missing something you can't hope to have?_

'Morning,' Merlin's eyes peeled open, and Morgana could not resist the urge to reach out and rake a hand over that tousled hair, the shadow of stubble that had grown overnight. He closed his eyes at her touch, so impossibly at peace, that Morgana had never known.

'You're so... beautiful,' Merlin said, his own hand tracing the arch of her neck to where the nightshirt had exposed her shoulder - a touch of a feather, nothing more.

Morgana swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and wondered if so was his. Wondered how she would look through his eyes, their pale hands entwined in each others hair, equally dark, so that no one could not tell which belong to which, as if they'd been made of the same kind of substance, divided by space and time into two uneven lumps.

She wondered if they had met just to even it out, take the parts that were missing and hand out the excess.

'Merlin...' Morgana began, realizing that she'd called him again with his true name. Merlin blinked. Confusion coloured his still very sleepy face. Then, the sound of the doorbell, and the world came crashing in.

* * *

A/N: Enjoy the last drops of sweetness, heavy angst to come later on. Thank you all for following, your reviews keep me going!


	7. Seven

A/N: Cal or Merlin, that is the question...Meanwhile, it's also an easy way to distinguish the viewpoints. But now, on to the family drama.

* * *

**Seven.**

**.**

Cal jumped up, wondering who could possibly be dropping by so early. Gaius and Alice were usually out at this time of the day, besides, he knew they kept the key under the stone banister and wouldn't resort to ringing the bell.

Morgana looked up from the bed, unexcited. 'Must be my mother.'

'W-what?' The idea of meeting her family after their brief snuggle felt... confronting, not to mention that he was still technically in his pajamas and... _How did she even find them?_

'I called her.' Morgana sat up, grabbing her clothes. 'Last night, when you were asleep.' Her hair was a lovely mess, and it was only as she was pulling the long shirt over her head that Cal remembered to look away.

The possible reasons for her mother's arrival filled his mind with dread, alerting the voice in his head that said that this was it, she was leaving, and that last night was simply just that. _Thank you very much _and_ Goodbye._

It must have been all very evident in his face, for Morgana cupped his chin again, and turned it to face her - now wearing a top, but still very much in her underpants - and looked at him: eyes like cut glass, slowly breaking him apart, piece by piece. His pulse was throbbing against the inside of her thumb with a rush of fear and excitement that was not unpleasant. _What was the name she had called him again?_

'Relax,' Morgana implored, studying his pout. 'She won't tell on us.'

* * *

Letting out one nervous breath, Cal finally opened the door. Despite Morgana informing him earlier, so he had no idea what to expect.

'Good morning, Mrs-...' _was she even married?_

Calm blue eyes scanned him from head to toe, then settled on his face.

'Vivienne.' The tall blonde extended her hand. She was wearing a silver ring and elegant designer coat, her hair was long and sleek, her immaculate jaw line and her arched eyebrows the only thing shared with Morgana. 'Please. Just Vivienne.'

'Uhm, very nice,' he remembered his manners and stopped staring. 'I'm Cal.'

He closed the door behind her, and began shambling around, stumbling over Gaius' old wellies, trying to find another a free place on the clothing rack.

Vivienne stood, gloves grasped tight in her hand, looking around her like a canary bird in a foreign cage.

'This way,' Cal motioned towards the living room.

* * *

The woman was obviously rather sophisticated, her nails varnished to perfection, the hint of French only lightly shining through. He was no longer sure what to offer to her, whether the shortbread aunt Alice had baked the day before would be sufficient for the occasion.

Vivienne refused politely, accepting only tea. 'I had a lunch on the train,' she apologized, settling her gloves on the edge of the sofa. Cal stood, unsure what to do or say next.

Thankfully enough the moment didn't last long. Morgana was already coming down the stairs, noisily, looking like a grumpled cat, and she was wearing all her old clothes again.

Her mother sat up, her posture trained rimrod straight. Morgana did not move to sit down. Their silence in this homely setting was unusual, if not a little unnerving.

'I'll leave you to catch up,' Cal excused himself, leaving the women sort it out their business alone.

* * *

'He's a cute one.' Vivenne remarked, breaking the silence. 'But you always did prefer the pale dark-haired ones.'

'Much like my father?'

The older woman sighed with the load of two worlds on her shoulders.

'Morgana, this is not a joke. Why now? You were already making such progress-...'

'I want to know why he really left. Why you went to Uther. Why he didn't visit us once.'

Cal busied himself with preparing tea in the kitchen. There was a distinct sense of an argument rising, and he felt torn between going to check on them and taking cover - preferably in a bomb shelter.

* * *

Morgana reached for something she had tucked under her sweater. Slammed a yellowish envelope on the desk.

'It's true, isn't it?' Morgana snapped, victorious. 'The restraining order. I knew it, when I heard them mentioning an accident. Uther beat him up, then got a warrant to stop him from ever seeing us.'

The mother's face grew pained, then icy, then sad.

'The accident was with me. I lost a baby in a fight with your father, after we left. It was a girl.'

Morgana balked.

'Uther pulled him off me, took me to the hospital, but I already started bleeding. No irreversible damage. I did manage to conceive Arthur, after all.'

* * *

Cal had stopped breathing, one could have heard the sound of a needle dropping.

'I wish you had said something sooner,' was all Morgana could manage after a while.

'Come now. What would you have done with that information,' Vivienne admonished, incredulous, 'that you already haven't caused on your own?' That was clearly too harsh, even if it held some truth.

'You. left. me. With Uther.' Morgana roared, her voice terribly shaky, '_Uther_. While I was too small to choose. Did you think, just once, what it meant for me?'

'Poor Morgana, it's always been all about you.' Vivienne pointed out calmly- 'But I suppose you got that from me. That, and your looks.'

'Oh, please...' Morgana scoffed without fire. 'I'm not your grand genetic experiment.'

'No, you're my _daughter_.'

Wordlessly, Morgana curled up on the sofa, rested her head on her mother's lap. Vivienne smoothed her raven black hair, the perfect photo negative of hers. Cal stopped on the doorway with this awkward sensation of witnessing something terribly intimate. He forgot about the tray. The two didn't notice him, didn't move at all.

'The baby... Did you have a name for her?'

'I suppose,' Vivienne remembered, 'I was thinking of Morgause, to match with you.'

* * *

Knowing he might just as well forget the tea, Cal decided to go up to his room and finally give the two some privacy.

On the floor, Morgana's bag lay wide open, its contents visible, kicked over in an obvious rush to retrieve the papers she'd shown downstairs.

Cal moved to pick it up, when he noticed something else had spilled on the floor. Pills of different shapes and colour, and names on labels that didn't reveal much, but seemed pretty serious. Carefully, one by one, he picked them up and returned them to her bag.

Risperidone, Restoril, Olanzapine... the names told him nothing.

_It could be anything,_ he reasoned lightly, remembering the trust they had established so far. And during the while they had known each other, Morgana had not mentioned being ill. Nor asked for water for any of the medications.

Then again, it made sense to take all the essentials with you when you left home for long. He himself had struggled with injuries as a child, knew how much time it took to heal, long after.

Cal paced around, head between his hands, trying to put it all together, so that he could put it off his mind. The idea of her being in pain filled him with unease, feeling stupid for not asking earlier. Or maybe she hadn't even wanted him to know.

He could not ask now, either. Not without making it seem like he had gone through her bag while she was away. _Which he had._

* * *

'Remember what you promised me, mother. Remember that.'

Cal heard the sound of shouting, then sudden commotion downstairs.

'Was that your mother, did she just-' He hurried came down the stairs, after the distinctive slam of the front door. Morgana met him halfway on the landing, grabbed him roughly by the collar, and effectively, shut him up with her demanding mouth against his. Reeling from the impact, Cal cupped her face, kissing her back, and clumsily backed up the stairs.

'Morgana, what hap-' he tried once more, but she silenced him again, her lips moving against his at their own rhythm. He gave up talking at all, wondering where the blood had gone from his brain. But that was alright.

Talking was not high on her priority list right now.

* * *

A/N: Whew, what a difficult chapter to work on. Next one will be more ... steamy, but nothing too explicit that would change the rating. Hope you enjoyed!


	8. Eight

A/N: This is it. One more chapter to go.

* * *

**Eight.**

.

Their trip upstairs had been all but a struggle, a battle between the forces of gravity in a confined space, as two distinctly separate bodies tried to work their way up without waiving an inch of their skin contact.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut with his back, grateful that Alice and Gaius weren't home yet, and gave Morgana the much needed chance to come up for air. Her hands were restless, though, grasping through and under his clothes, running a hand down the cleft of his spine, almost desperate, grabbing as much as she could before it was all over.

Cal lifted her up, supporting her at the wall, and vaguely realized the full extent of his luck, that he had managed to wade through his life this far, as to reach out and experience this pure moment of bliss.

_That could easily be the culmination_. This gorgeous, magical girl, with her legs wrapped around his waist, dipping down to kiss him again.

* * *

Cal's mind had been more than a little woozy, but slowly, gradually, he had managed to push their way towards the bed, unsure how long he could have kept himself up on his feet. Together, they had plummeted on his poor old cot. The clothes she'd worn and his had been discarded in mere seconds and opened up whole new territories for their hands and mouths to explore. After their first time fumbling, they had soon found their fit and stopped no more.

Then, unimaginable relief.

'Morgana,' Cal uttered, out of breath, briefly back in focus. And instantly lost again by the very close proximity of her perfect skin, that he was allowed to touch. And he did.

'Merlin.' She repeated, breathing back into his neck. The name was familiar, but it didn't belong. _So why did she keep calling him that?_

He pulled away, slightly, creating a wide enough gap in between, to ask,

'Who's Merlin?'

* * *

It hadn't occurred to him that asking the question was such a wet blanket. He didn't mean to create that confusion, or her to roll over to her back, quiet tears flowing down her face. Kissing her again did seem to work for a moment, but through their mingled breath, he felt her tears coming down even harder.

'Morgana. What is it?'

Merlin pushed her hands away, kissed them, pressed them tight against his chest.

'I can't help you, if you don't tell me.'

'You.'

She had said it at last.

'_You._ Are Merlin.'

Cal smiled like it could not possibly be really that easy. ''What, like in the legends?'

'No,' Morgana smiled, finally. 'You _are_ the legend.'

* * *

'So, I am Merlin, the old wizard from the books?'

He was obviously trying to adjust himself to the caricature of a white-bearded sorcerer, solidified by myths and children's book covers. Naturally, it didn't take.

'Most myths are inaccurate. We looked much the same as we do now. Besides, you were never that old. Just some disguise to hide the magic back in the time.'

Merlin seemed even more fascinated by in that simple fact that magic had existed, more than the complicated age-old feud that had warred between them. But slowly, the most relevant questions started popping up in his mind.

'How did it feel? Were we ever... close back then?'

'Once,' Morgana said after a moment of thought. _Only once for real._ The times she'd tricked him with magic didn't count. She was not even sure if she wanted Merlin to know about it, to fully comprehend how occupied they had been trying to kill each other in Camelot to consider anything simmering underneath their animosity. 'Tell me, do you really not remember?'

Merlin took his time answering, licked his lips, and stared at the ceiling, imagining all the things he had heard. Morgana waited, like she had many times. But they were okay, he was here and not going anywhere.

'Not quite. But I believe you.'

* * *

They were still lying together with their arms linked, discussing, but mostly in silence. Outside, the day wore off, and downstairs, Alice was starting to prepare for the supper.

Who knows how long they would have stayed there, if their souls were still connected to their bodies, bodies that began to grumble at the smell of Alice's cooking that forced its way up.

'Don't go anywhere,' Merlin had said. _The real Merlin_. And, having thrown on some clothes, he disappeared downstairs. Morgana stretched out on the bed, over the warm covers Merlin had left in his wake, and recognised that, in that moment, she was completely, contentedly happy.

Then - after she'd thought this could not be any better-, behind the glass, in a perfect peaceful harmony, the first snow began to fall.

Just like magic, but the real kind.

Without switching on any lights, Morgana got up and walked to the window, where, outside the panes, the snow had begin to gather.

In the front yard, the view had changed, as if Christmastime had come too early. The snow kept falling lavishly, like her mother's fur coat, over the starving land, like a shroud or white paper, with nothing to be written.

And there it was, in the driveway. Arthur's car.

* * *

'Do you have a warrant?'

Merlin folded his arms on his chest, blocking the door. Arthur eyed his pale face, his set jaw, taking in what he could only read as relentless defiance.

'No.'

'Then you can't take her anywhere.'

'Do you even know who I am,' Arthur asked, incredulous.

'Oh, I know who you are.' Merlin eyed him, unflinching. 'I also know why you're here. You want to take Morgana back to a place she doesn't choose to be. You think your father can force her with money... How long do you think she will stay locked up in your crystal palace?'

'We only have her best interest in mind.' Arthur protested, justifyably offended on the part of his family. 'And I will never see her locked up. Ever.' Then, quieter. 'Even if it means following her around to see if she's on her meds until we're both old and gray.'

This apparently came a news, and Arthur was keen enough to pick it up. He sat down, swung a leg over the other, his long coat slided on the backrest, and grinned. 'She didn't mention that, did she?'

* * *

Arthur took no pleasure in what he was saying,

'My sister, Morgana, was diagnosed with paranoid delusions at the age of five. Schizophrenia at 10. Manic-depressive at 14. She's been in and out of fits, making up stories of magical castles, foes and allies and monsters chasing her, said that I was the king, for Godssakes, but then again, so was my Dad.'

Merlin had grown quiet, so very quiet.

'We've been through it already. She has a tendency to make things up, invent backstories to people she's barely met. After her most recent relapse, we agreed to a home treatment, where she went missing three days ago, in the middle of the night, escaped through the second floor window.'

Slowly, Merlin moved away from the door, as if his whole world had collapsed. Arthur made no attempt to go past him, and if he had, there would have been no resistance at all.

He weighed the evidence, Morgana's multiple identities, her mood swings, the incredible stories, her highly paranoid nature. And not least of all, the pills he'd found in her bag, ones she's never explained. Not once.

* * *

Morgana stood in the kitchen, having listened to the whole conversation.

'Merlin.'

She stepped closer to touch him, but pulled away as soon as she glimpsed the expression wrenched on his handsome features. Everything she'd been suspecting and dreading since their first meeting at the station took shape as he summoned his strangled voice to speak...

'Don't call me that.'

'Cal,' she whispered, desperate. 'Everything I said was, it was real - you said you believed me. The magic, our lives in the past - it's true, all of it.'

Merlin looked up at her, the expression on his face nothing short of heartbreaking.

'You are raving mad, Morgana,' he realized, eyes wet with tears, and for a terrifying, mad, incomprehensible while, she believed him.

* * *

Sneaking out through the bathroom window, onto the roof and the shed below, Morgana plopped down into the yard. She crawled low below the hedge, through the melting snow, her new dark coat as the perfect cover. Morgana had reached her freedom.

Wiping her eyes dry with the edge of her glove, Morgana straightened up, felt the wind brush past the road, where snow had settled, like a white blanket. And slowly, as she walked, she remembered how to breathe.

Unexpectedly, at the end of the road, a familiar figure waving at her. _Gaius_. Unaware of the recent events, he came over to her side, asked if she was going away now.

'And what about Cal?'

Morgana gave a sad smile, shook her head.

'I've had my failings in the past,' Gaius amended, his wrinkled hand resting on her shoulder. 'But I can advise you now: don't push him away, whatever it is. Use it like raft to take you to the shore. Don't try to swim alone. No one can.'

Morgana turned in the middle of the road, eyes welled with tears as she heaved, empty-handed.

'Thank you, Gaius. For this time.'

The man stood puzzled, watching her retreating form.

* * *

A/N: So painful. I'm not pulling the final 'unreliable storyteller' card on you, or am I? Read and review to find out! I love all feedback.


	9. Nine

A/N: Here it is - the last chapter. What a journey.

* * *

**Nine.**

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The snowstorm worsened. Cal had trusted his life in Arthur's steady grip on the wheel, which, though not so bad, could not have made any difference. Ever since the last night Cal had been steadily hitting himself on the head every five minutes. He should have chosen his words more carefully. Should have knocked harder on the bathroom door, ignored her request to be left alone (_for once in her life_), told her that he really didn't care if she was sane or not. That he was stupid, and scared, that he wanted to be with her. Wherever that was.

The worst part was, when Morgana took off it appeared as though she had taken a leap and finally left everything and_ everyone_ behind. Her bag, her wallet, her documents... If something horrible had happened to her- Cal was not able to finish that thought, dared not imagine.

'Look, Cal. I'm sorry, man,' Arthur said without glancing off from the road. 'I know there was - _something,_ between you and Morgana.'

Cal said nothing.

'And from what happened, I take it she must have cared about you too. Y'know, in the old-fashioned, non-delusional, fairytale kind of way...' Arthur trailed off, having made it worse somehow. 'If you want to... You can come and visit her, after we, after she's back.'

Cal stared ahead, far far away, where the dark strip spewed white sprinkles of ice and snow against the windshield, under the immeasurable vastness of the sky that made people seem small and ridiculous in comparison.

_It did not feel right._

For if he delved deeper into his mind, deep beyond his conscience and psyche, he saw the truth, just beyond the horizon, a throbbing glow resembling a heartbeat.

* * *

The wind grew stronger as they got nearer to the coast. The air was salty, but no colder than inland. Cornwall had been a lucky guess at first, but Cal had begun to understand how Morgana's mind worked.

The clues had been scattered all over her notebook, a rare glimpse into a mind of a schizophrenic: a mess of names and events, scribbled timelines, lined and written over, many many times. But it was the places that had caught Cal's interest and led them there. Arthur was mildly impressed.

'You know, you should come work for me.'

Cal snorted, 'No. But thanks.' He had a faint idea how bad that could turn out. Being a year younger than him and already with so many men at his command, while all Cal wanted was his freedom. Among other things..._  
_

The bus station was empty. She could have easily walked, or hitchhiked her way where she needed.

Cal turned the map in his hands. It refused to bend together and be like it used to. Arthur already took the next turn by heart.

'You been here before?' Cal suggested.

'Not that I know of.'

* * *

Tintagel was stormy when they reached the castle. But the rain and snow made it unbelievably worse, almost blowing them off the walls. To increase their odds of finding her, they split up, and Cal took the north wing. The visibility was so bad that he nearly missed her, the lone slender figure standing amidst the crumbling ruins overlooking the cliff.

Upon approaching her, Cal saw she was not wearing her coat, leaving her completely exposed to the elements. She was facing away - frail, as if wind could pick her up. Could it really be that this tender being was the cause of such terror in the past? He no longer knew. All he wanted was her away from that cliff.

'How long have you stood here?'

'I've been thinking,' Morgana began, with some inner turmoil. The back of her heel trailed dangerously close to the edge. 'I thought that if I could find a place... one that was real. That if it was here, then maybe, I was not crazy.'

* * *

'Morgana, stop this. I believe you, I do.'

'You're just saying it. I can't stand to be like this, Cal. Do you understand?'

'Better than anyone.'

She wiped her face, looked into at the chasm below. Waves gathered and crashed against the cliffs. All real, so very real.

'It's what you said. About being free.'

Morgana's ink black hair lashed against her face. The wind ripped right through them, but neither really cared.

'We are driftwood. We don't belong.'

Cal balked at the full extent of her agony. Everything he'd said and talked about - Morgana had taken in a different way. It seemed as if nothing had changed between the moment they had met in that bus shelter and where they stood now, beaten to an inch of their lives by the elements.

'You're wrong.' He fought back against the wind. 'You've got it all upside down.'

Merlin stretched out an arm to reach her, to remind her again, how much they had belonged just days ago.

'Please, let me help you.'

Something in Morgana cracked, and, turning around...she slipped. Morgana fell.

* * *

Digging her nails into the cold slippery stone, Morgana thrashed her legs, clinging to her dear life, while Merlin grabbed her arm and sleeve, trying to keep her fixed on the ledge, watched the wish for survival take over her body.

'I won't let go,' he breathed, fixing another hand around her elbow.

Thankfully and just in time, Arthur had finally caught up with them. Leaning himself dangerously far over the edge, he grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her up. At the unfathomable relief of solid ground under her feet, Morgana was too much in shock to move or say anything.

Overwhelmed, Arthur ran his hands over her hair, her arms, her face, all wet and cold.

'Jeesh- Morgana. You're soaked to the bone.'

Opening his coat hems, Arthur wrapped it around him and his sister, the two remained entwined till the help came.

* * *

It was then, at the presence of the once and future king, that the key of his mind finally slipped to its place and Cal felt a wave of images, so faint at first they could be mistaken for his imagination, wash over him with the dull certainty of knowledge. It was a blissful and horrifying while it lasted, before Cal collapsed on the ground below him.

He watched the ambulance drive up to the coast, the workers rushing out with a stretcher and warm blankets, to minimize the damage from hypothermia, and shivered.

That's what it took: the two of them together and Arthur, mirroring their very last meeting, to cause this rift to happen.

'You're a good man,' Arthur's voice was filled with gratitude.

Cal staggered under the hand on his shoulder, as if recovering from the blast by the scepter of the dead, and moved to sit on the sidewalk.

The king walked away, sat beside his sister to accompany her to the town for healing. And even as the ambulance took them away, he could still not move, recovering from the sheer shock of it all.

It had taken ages and ages, but he was there.

Merlin remembered.

**.**

* * *

A/N: I should have warned you I'm a sucker for open bittersweet endings.

About the 'Completed' status: Depending on the time and interest in this fic, I'm thinking of a possible one-shot or an epilogue chapter... Just to wipe up some tears and clear up the future. Or what do you say?

I don't have a soundtrack for this fic, but if I could, I would pick the band Future Islands - 'The Great Fire', 'Close to None' - their whole album is amazing and set the theme for this story. Go for it, if you're in the mood for some post-fic feels.

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Thanks once again for reading, stay alert and subscribed for future updates! All in time.


	10. Ten

_A/N: No, tragedy is not the end of things, it just makes all the nice things even better. So, as promised, the conclusion. All is Mergana and nothing hurts._

* * *

**_Epilogue Chapter_**

**_._**

_At World's End (All Words End)_

.

Merlin waited at the front of the stone mansion, rimmed by giant banisters and what looked like massive flowerpots with evergreen shrubs and plants inside. The ornaments were symmetrical and evenly divided, curving into wide steps that stretched out to the grovel yard that could easily fit the whole of uncle Gaius's house and the garden with it. Anyone from his social background should have felt intimidated by the grand exterior, as he would have, too, a mere week ago.

The door opened, and instead of Arthur, he was faced with his father, a slowly graying man in a plaid shirt, who did not seem to have the air of command his offspring so loved to dwell on. _Suppose no man can escape their shadow..._ Stretching out a palm, Merlin introduced himself as Cal - rather unnecessarily, for they had previously been informed about his coming.

'Of course. The man to whom we owe the return of our precious Morgana.'

Merlin mumbled it was not all quite like that, but was met by Uther's handshake, which was firm and dry, and for a brief moment, the familiar nature of their greeting felt unbelievably odd.

Merlin was ushered into the so-called 'crystal palace', but the sight that opened to him was in fact a warm wood-floored hall, with white walls and tasteful interior. In the adjoining hall, an oversized Christmas tree had been set up, the lights cast a faint glow into the afternoon dimness.

'We set up the decorations a week early,' Uther explained. 'Thought it would help cheer her up.'

Merlin admitted that it was nice, splendid even, unsure whether he meant the decorations, the house, or the meeting with Uther himself. Merlin's eyes darted around, and up above the wide staircase, trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar figure.

'Has she, uhm, asked about me?'

Uther's mouth twisted into something of a knowing smile. Had she told them about him, and more importantly, _what_ and how much had she actually told to her guardian? Merlin's head filled with questions - questions he could not dare to ask.

'Gwen, come here.'

_ - Gwen?_

It could have been a coincidence with the names, but the girl who appeared had a perfect measure of graceful softness, medium length curly hair, and earnest brown eyes that erased all doubts. With no hints of recognition, she greeted him kindly and proceeded to show him upstairs. Merlin followed. Even in scrubs and a pair of trainers, she made quite a dashing nurse.

The second floor consisted mostly of bedrooms, lined up in a long hallway. Gwen poked her head in the room on the left, and whispered, 'Morgana, are you ready? He's here.'

The '_he'_ had quite a household feel, which Merlin found oddly pleasing. And then, his nerves broke out.

* * *

Quite unexpectedly, Morgana felt a warm glow rise up her body. For a moment, it felt like there was a early summer, not Christmas time, behind the windows hiding behind the white curtains. Uther had invested a great deal in this room for it to look less... hospital-like, still compensating for the things he didn't need to, and Morgana had decided not to mind this time, let him be what he needs to be around her.

She stretched her bare feet on top of the covers, trying to regain her cool, watched Gwen scurry around her to fix the pillows, put the thermometer on the bedside table and finally left her with her visitor, who stood at the side of the door, hands behind his back, appearing so reserved all of a sudden.

Merlin. The same bright, boyish, excited face. He looked less scrubby than before, in a checkered shirt, and a winter jacket she didn't recognize. She had a distinct impression of him in front of the mirror, fixing every piece of his untamable hair.

Rumours had reached her that he was working for Arthur now, passing small messages of her recovery. She silently wondered why he hadn't come to see her sooner.

'You look well.'

Merlin was excited, but no longer nervous, as if powered by a secret force. It reminded her too much of the Merlin she once knew. Even before they became enemies.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. Her hair in a messy bun, and she was dressed in a softest set of gray pajamas. For a moment, she was so focused on how she might look like that she almost missed the bunch of wildflowers he pulled out of his jacket and set on her night table. How he had managed to get them at this time of the year was another mystery.

'Thanks. So do you.' Morgana was stunned.

He raked a hand at the back of his head self-consciously. 'I take it you've heard already, from Arthur.'

'I can't imagine how you manage.'

'The job or Arthur?'

Morgana punched him playfully in his shoulder, breaking the invisible barrier of contact. His laughter was clear and untroubled.

'So you're keeping it?' Morgana asked, as light as possible. He nodded, searching for her reaction.

'Just for the while.'

Merlin stepped closer and the electrostatic tension between them doubled. Both stared at each other for an unknown while. The feelings, and everything that had happened between them came flooding down, threatening to drown her like a tidal wave. And all of a sudden, he was closer again, so unbearably close, not close enough.

'Morgana.'

Merlin took her hand in his, brought his forehead to rest against the inside of her wrist. His skin was hot compared to hers, and her pulse trembled in his hand. He breathed,

'I am so, so sorry, for what I said.'

'Don't-' Morgana stopped him with a hand on his lips. 'I have come to accept this. What I am. I know that there are things I see that are not real. You made me face it.'

He tried to speak again, but she needed to finish. 'I can cope with it now. Don't feel pity for me... I'm fine. I really am.'

Merlin just shook his head, and closed his fist. When he opened it again, there was a flame, bright and blue against his bare palm, burning but not scalding. It was a miracle, it was... Morgana stared, until she started believing, until she no longer thought she had started hallucinating again.

'But how? I thought all magic was dead. Our powers-'

'Magic is like memories. It's never gone. Once it's touched you, it stays there, like a seed for times to come.'

She closed his hand, watched the fire disappear and jump up again as she opened it. She laughed, amazed. And so did he.

'And_ I _thought I was mad.'

'You're not mad, Morgana. You never were.'

Making some more room on her side, Morgana pulled Merlin on the bed with her, closing tight around each other like clams. Her hand borrowed through his jacket to the front of his shirt, counting the heartbeats that were going increasingly faster. She wanted to ask, to know, to be around him so much more, but for the wonderful peaceful while she was content to stay like this.

.

Merlin spoke first.

'Do you have any plans, for holidays?' It was played to sound like a simple question. Morgana shook her head, holding her breath.

'Good, me neither.'

He was going to let it hang, like an open invitation, one she could not refuse. It was _now_, not never.

'We should go somewhere,' Morgana leaned up, caught a glimpse of his eyes, still deep cobalt blue. 'And please don't let it be 'nowhere' again. I'm done with this cold.'

'Yeah. Me too.' Merlin understood and grinned. 'I've always wanted to see India.'

Turquoise and red, bright yellow saris filled her mind like a vision, blue silk that wrapped around her waist and covered her arm, laden with golden hoops and rings. Temples and gurus. Walking through multicolored dye and spice markets, his warm hand steady on her back.

Morgana hummed, closing her eyes.

'It could work.'

.

_The end._

.

* * *

A/N: Merlin and Morgana, on magical worldtravelling adventures. I would pay to see that show.


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